Here is what I have learned about critiques:
FICTION: You can expect a fair, unbiased critique.
REALITY: Some people will always hate what you do (even if you are awesome) because they just don’t dig your style. Some people will get set off by a random, unpredictable aspect of your story and be completely unable to get over it enough to say anything helpful. Some people will read your story in a sloppy manner and give you a half-assed critique. Some people just don’t know how to critique, period.
FICTION: If you’re upset after a critique, you just need to toughen up and take it. After all, you need a thick skin to succeed as a writer.
REALITY: Some critiques are harsh in a constructive way. Some critiques are harsh in a non-constructive way. Some critiques are just plain mean-spirited. Learn to deal with the first of these. The other two? Consider not getting critiqued by these people again or…
FICTION: Take all critiques into thoughtful consideration.
REALITY: Some critiques you can pretty much ignore. That’s not to say you shouldn’t listen while they’re being given, but after a while you can tell which critiques are completely irrelevant to any learning or revising you might be doing.
FICTION: You need critiques to become better as a writer.
REALITY: There are many ways to become better as a writer. The critique is merely one helpful tool among many. After all, there were still great writers before the current fad for critique.
FICTION: You should implement all suggestions given in a good critique.
REALITY: You should listen to the issues a good critiquer is having, and figure out what you, the writer, want to do about it. Often critiquers try to completely retell your story for you (although I wouldn’t personally call this a good critique). In that case, you need to work backwards to figure out what actually wasn’t working for them, and then change it in your own way. And only if you want to.
FICTION: A critique should always be followed by a revision.
REALITY: As long as you’ve learned something from a critique, it doesn’t matter what you do afterwards. Sometimes you need to revise to complete the learning. Sometimes you want to revise. Sometimes you want to chuck the story into the fire and never think of it again. Sometimes you nod, say hmm, and make a few small changes before submitting. Sometimes, if you’re Dean Wesley Smith, you submit the story before the critique so you’re not tempted to revise the life out of your story. (And oh yes, it is so possible to revise your story to death.)
FICTION: If a person is a “pro” or just has a few more credits than you, their word is God in the critique department.
REALITY: I wish. Some pros are amazing teachers and critiquers. Others, not so much. Some people with more credits than you will have amazingly helpful things to tell you about your work. Others will not. Some readers who know nothing about writing will have insights that are equally useful. And some will not. You get the picture.
FICTION: You should be involved in as much critiquing as possible.
REALITY: If you get too involved in critiquing, it might interfere with finding time to do the actual writing. And most of us ultimately want to be WRITERS, not critiquers. Right? Otherwise why would we be putting ourselves through all this?
FICTION: If you can’t handle a critique, you shouldn’t be a writer.
REALITY: If you can’t handle rejection and revision requests from professional editors and agents (who you are doing business with), then you’re going to have some trouble. If you can’t handle the occasional critique (or even the more than occasional critique), maybe something else is going on.
FICTION: Critique trumps all!
REALITY: It’s more important to manage your writing life in whatever way works for you. And if your way is not exactly the same as everyone else’s way, that’s okay. We’re artists, after all. We’re supposed to be different.
Okay, have at it! Disagree with me (or tell me how you’ve been secretly thinking the same thing). I’m going in for more dental torture this morning (if we ever meet in person and you want to see me cry, mention dentistry), but I’ll be commenting with gusto (and pain-induced bravado) later today.
Oh, man, that’s annoying. I was so raring up to disagree, and then much to my disappointment I find I must agree on all counts. Well said.
There’s still chances for you to disagree next week! (And for the rest of my life, for that matter.)
When writing the above, I didn’t feel like I was spending as much energy trying to sugarcoat, so that’s something. 🙂
You are so right about all of these myths and truths. Critiques can be the best and worst thing to do with your pages. At best, a critiques can let you see your story in a new way, letting you see why things aren’t working and pointing toward the path of how to fix it. At worst, they can be confusing, crushing, and heartbreaking.
Same with critique groups… at best they can be a group of supportive peers who grow with your (and their) writing. At worst, they can be people who want to drag you down.
For me, the key is knowing when a story is ready to share. And knowing when I’m feeling confident enough to risk the bad or good result. I guess like all things in writing, it’s a balancing act!
That’s a very wise point about timing. And I think it has to do with confidence level as well. Food for thought!
I definitely agree that not all critiques are useful. And I think there’s a difference between taking advice on craft vs. taking advice on content/voice/style. The first is far more objective than the second.
Hmm, I hadn’t thought of that, but yes, there are certain areas of critique that are more objective than others. And I do think that it’s when a critique moves into the very subjective that it’s more likely to have problems. When I am critiquing, I always try to ask myself, “How can I help this writer best tell *their* story? Not the one I would tell, but the one they’ve chosen to tell.” Because so often I read stories that I would never tell that way, but I think saying so tends to be counterproductive.
I have disagreed, on my own blog. Just for the sake of the project, mind you.
Hooray! You have come through for me in the disagreement department. I will have to go over and disagree back. (Or possibly say darn it, you’re right. Guess we’re about to find out….)
Here from Ferrett’s LJ, and…I agree, mostly.
Slight disagreement: “Handling critique” in the sense that you don’t make a scene in public is, absolutely, something you need to do. You can fume to your friends, you can roll your eyes privately, you can kick the walls, and those are all fine, but don’t be the critique version of Anne Rice. And if you get published and you get harsh reviews, which you will, don’t be…Anne Rice.
Other than that: yeah. I’ve gotten all kinds of comments on my work. Some were totally helpful notes about how I needed to redo the intro and add more detail here but less there. Some might have been helpful except that the next comment I got totally contradicted them, so it was a wash. Some were that chick in Creative Writing 101 who told me I needed to put more social relevance in my stories and do something besides fantasy, and that chick can kiss both my ass and the ass of my book deal, and I still kinda hope she steps in dog crap today. (CW101, in retrospect, was less “learning to write” and more “learning to hate seventy-five percent of your peers”.)
Oh yes. That’s hilarious, because it’s so engrained in me not to make a scene in public that it didn’t even occur to me to think about that scenario.
I agree that one shouldn’t make a scene in public about a critique received, or a bad review received (if anything, even MORE so than the critique). Behaving in a professional manner is important. If, on the other hand, behind closed doors we are less sanguine, I think that’s ok. Possibly even healthy.
Also, I’m glad you stuck to your guns and kept writing what you love instead of listening to the Evil 101 Chick.
Absolutely agreed on both of those. Keeping a sense of perspective, of course, but I’ve certainly done my fair share of grumbling over how I cannot be*lieve* that X bugged Y reviewer/critiquer, what color is the sky in Y’s world, etc.
And thanks! I am too. I don’t think she had enough style to be evil, though–she just sort of ODed on freshman pretentiousness. 😉
MORE of this, is what I say! Nicely written, very good. It’s taken me most of four years to get to where I GET what you are saying here. I’m guilty of most of the initial FICTIONS you outline.
Nice job, Amy!
Thank you, Lou! Honestly, I just wish I had learned all of this stuff sooner than I did. Would have saved me a certain amount of angst. 🙂
In my experience, the real value of a workshop doesn’t come from the critiques of my stories (although I’ve gotten a plenty of good critiques).
The real values comes from doing a critique of someone else’s story, and then hearing multiple other critiques.
There’s gold in those other critiques: flaws I didn’t spot, connections I didn’t make, suggestions I didn’t think of, tools I didn’t use (or didn’t even know about).
I’m glad to get critiques—they often help me locate flaws in a story and sometimes provide useful suggestions. But hearing multiple critiques of other people’s stories (after I’ve already done my critique) has done a lot more for my writing skills than critiques of my own work.
That’s a great point. We did sooo many critiques at Taos Toolbox, and after awhile, a lot of the basic concepts we were talking about got really drilled into my brain. And it’s also super useful to pick apart somebody else’s work to figure out what is working and what isn’t.
Right. That’s why just reading (or hearing) a bunch of critiques doesn’t help nearly as much. First you need to do a critique (the best you can do) and then you need to hear a bunch of other critiques of the same story. (At least, that’s what worked for me.)
I particularly loved hearing the critiques of the “master critiquers” to see what they had picked up on that I had missed. It felt kind of like a bingo game. 🙂
Hmm. I’m afraid I can’t find much to disagree with here. I’m trying to be cantankerous. I’ve got my cane here, just begging to be waved. Yet, I just can’t find a target.
If I might add something on recognizing good critiques from bad, have a look at The Mighty Ferrett’s guidelines for good critiques: http://theferrett.livejournal.com/1465575.html
An excellent post. I try to follow those rules as much as possible, but you can also gauge the quality of incoming critiques by them as well. This is especially useful at workshops where the students may not have any real experience giving constructive critiques.
A fine article. What’s next? 🙂
Sigh. I was *trying* to be easy to disagree with. Apparently it’s more difficult than I thought. 🙂
What’s next indeed. I am thinking very hard over here to come up with something that people will definitely disagree with. Preferably something that isn’t political or religious. But who knows what I will have to resort to!
Greatest Supervillain Of All Time.
Oh, man. What a can of controversy!
Lex Luthor, obviously!
Batman — he just hides it better than the other so-called ‘villains’.
Agreed with everyone, more of this please!
You don’t talk at length about critique groups, but I think they’re worth more than just critiques. The networking and support (or hopefully the support…) are worth it, at least to me.
Oh yes, critique groups are great for networking. (Darn it, there I go agreeing again.) I started out only knowing people from my critique group, and have met so many great writers from there, so that has definitely been invaluable for me.
Indeed, I can’t disagree with you much either. In general, the fictions are true, but never absolute. You should be able to take criticism and you should learn which to take and which to refuse. Certainly, crying is always a valid first reaction. Then take another look. Sometimes a second read with a bit of warning what it contains will yield small nuggets you can use that you didn’t see while picking your jaw off the floor.
I think you need to be able to take A critique to be a writer, but you don’t need to take all of them!
I have been lucky. I had one friend who’s critiques constantly made me cry, but aside from him, I usually just smile, nod and put pen to paper making the necessary changes, because they were GOOD suggestions. The aforementioned friend was trying to make my work look like his, which it never could, and never SHOULD! Overall though, I’m going to keep asking for many critiques and offer them happily. (I haven’t had many takers. Maybe I’m bad at critiquing?)
More likely other people either a.) don’t have work ready to be critiqued when you offer (and perhaps forget later on when they do), or b.) don’t have time to return the critique favor so don’t want to impose.
I have to say, if I had someone whose critiques always made me cry, I wouldn’t ask for those critiques anymore. I’d find someone else to work with instead. But yeah, getting obviously good suggestions is a great rush when it happens.
When I submitted a contracted novel last year, after an unbelievably long and extensive revision, and my editor didn’t like it, I was heartbroken. Sobbing-through-the-night heartbroken. I’m a sensitive person by nature; I also had invested so much time and so much emotional energy into the book that I was set up for a hard fall from the beginning.
I almost wished I’d never been published, if I was going to react this way to disappointment. (I’ve also gotten any number of bad reviews; managed to survive most of them.) It’s easier to be a writer if your skin is tough. Then again, it’s easier to be a guitarist if you’ve got all your fingers, and look at Django Reinhart. Sometimes you want something so much that you’re willing to put up with the extra amount that you have to work.
Then again, this is probably why there are so many alcoholic writers.
Yes, this! I love what you’re saying here, and you put your finger exactly on the attitude I disagree with. (Interestingly this comes up for things besides writing, too.)
Sure, it’s easier if you have tough skin and if everything just slides right off you. But I don’t think not having tough skin (or tough enough, at any rate) means that you have to give up. It just means you need to learn other ways to work with it. And honestly, I think occasionally critiques are unnecessarily brutal. I mean, yes, it will suck when people find fatal flaws in your work no matter what (and it is important to be honest about the flaws they find in order for the critique to be helpful), but *how* they choose to communicate those flaws can make a huge difference.
My heart goes out to you for last year’s novel experience. I can’t imagine anyone not being really upset about something like that.
This is great, Amy – good for you for doing it! While I agree with most of your points, I do feel there’s a lot of value to critiques. One thing you didn’t talk about much, but which I think is a real benefit of critiques, is the way they toughen you up for the ugly and often crushing world of rejection awaiting aspiring writers. Critiques (at least those from people who have some notion of what they are doing) can be the first wake up call that your writing is not the brilliant, world-changing magic you think it is. Even really nasty ones can help you develop a thicker skin, a numbness (if you will), that will allow you to step back and assess your writing (and those critiques you get) more objectively. They will also help prepare you to receive and absorb the many, many rejections that will come your way once you start subbing material. So, there’s that.
Overall, though, I agree that people often invest the critiques they receive with a divine-received-wisdom kind of power. And, as you quite rightly point out, this is not only silly, but can be detrimental. It helps no one.
Great post 🙂
Thank you!
Maybe I’m unusual, but rejection doesn’t bother me in the same way that a certain type of critique will. Granted, usually critiques don’t bother me either (except in a normal grumbly sort of way :)) but I’ve found that they can occasionally get under my skin in a way that has never happened for any of my numerous rejections.
Perhaps this is because rejections just seem a whole lot less personal to me. It’s an interesting distinction to think about.
Yeah, that’s a good point, actually. Rejections do have that “from the faceless machine” kind of feel, even if they’re personalized, whereas critiques are very intimate (person X has these detailed and very crushingly specific things to say about your work).
I think the general point still holds, though; for better or worse, critiques help with the numbing process.
I found the general weight of multiple rejections with no comments to be the worst, because they don’t tell me how I might not be hitting the market correctly or what the editor found didn’t work for them. And then I got (sort of) used to the rejections, or at least decided I don’t care so much because I’ve done my present best before sending out my tales.
As someone who has great difficulty in creating original works artistically I go to great lengths to give constructive critiques to those who ask me to. This post gives me a number of things to keep in mind when I do and for that I thank you.
You’re most welcome! Thinking about critiquing is interesting because it’s really its own skill set.
I think the reason that people aren’t able to find anything to disagree with is the fact that there’s very little of a position here. Each Fiction/Fact group follows the same structure of taking a useful generalization that works in most cases, strawmanning it into an absolute, and then pointing out that it doesn’t always, like, work that way in every case necessarily.
I totally dig this backbone project. Going out to say something and defend it is an awesome exercise. I think if the extent of the statement is ‘Yeah, but there are exceptions!’ you’re going to have to raise the bar few notches.
Here we go, then:
I think that if a skillful, benevolent, authoritative, truthful critique makes you cry, you’re probably a weenie. Can we fight about that?
Thank you, LL, for calling it like it is. I think you’re right. When I was writing, I thought I was writing an arguable position, but as it turns out, perhaps not so much. Luckily for me, the backbone project has more than one purpose and I do think that this post fulfilled some of the other ones for me (although I might have defined my original parameters more clearly).
Perhaps a better statement (in terms of taking a position) would have been: You should ignore half of the critiques you receive. Or, just a flat-out: It’s better not to get your work critiqued. I bet those statements would have generated more argument … but unfortunately, as you have pointed out, I don’t actually hold these more controversial views.
S’all good.
If you’re really looking for stuff that people will disagree on, then politics, religion, abortion, the nature of consent, whether Indiana Jones or Robocop would win in a fistfight are all solid topics. Ranked, in this case, by likelihood of degenerating into an emotionally charged hatefest by both sides.
Critiques…seriously, I set them aside and go back to them later once I saw all the red marks (or the side notes, or whatever). It hurts to see them so I developed my own method. Take a glimpse and then work on them once I’ve calmed down.
It’s gotta be personal since we poured our soul into it. However, we also need to be rational and see if what the critiques say makes sense. Often, they can help us improve.
Yes, I always give myself time to mull them over before deciding what to implement. Sometimes to become calm but also sometimes because I just need time to figure out how to fix a certain problem.
I would go even farther, in some ways.
I think detailed, specific positive critiques — not just cheerleading, but analysis of what worked — are actually more useful than negative ones which focus on what’s not working. Both are useful, but in the end you want to revise towards a vision, not away from problems. Doing the latter will result in a dead story — all rough corners smoothed away, with what’s left being something no one would object to, but no one is excited about either.
Not merely is it the case that you can decide to ignore good (well meaning, intelligent, well-founded) critiques from writers more pro and skillful than you are, it is the case that you *should* decide to ignore very many of them. In addition, it is usually the case that the *opposite* of a good critique is *also* a good critique, so that “this is too short!” can usually be fixed by making it even shorter, “this is too dark!” can often be fixed by making it even darker, etc.
Lastly, crying *never* makes you a weenie. As the principal tells Duddley Pippin in “Free To Be You and Me”, “a sissy is someone who doesn’t cry, because they think people will call them a sissy if they do cry.”
I remember that we had a conversation about critiquing at my first Wiscon that I found massively helpful both then and now. I believe you introduced me to your “opposites” insight then, which I have tried to make good use of!
I really like the idea of revising towards a vision. I’ll have to add that one to my personal toolbox of good writing advice.
Love that quotation about crying as well. Too true.
I’ll probably be writing a follow-up post to this one at some point in the next few weeks, talking about what I think works well in critiques.
When I saw your title, I almost skipped by without reading. Luckily I read a few paragraphs, then a few more. Soon I was nodding in agreement.
On my first attempt, I found a critique group that offers tough-love, constructive feedback in a safe, non-hostile environment. I now realize my luck.
I especially agree that not all critiquers are created equal. You need to consider the source before internalizing the input. However, I’ve received real gems from the less informed members and real crap from the experts in the group.
Recently, I wrote about my first critique group experience on my blog. I’m a tough guy, and the team dished the feedback gently, but it still stung.
Thanks for a great article. One already bookmarked it to share with other newbies I’ll meet on my journey.
It sounds like you have a great group. I think it would be just as frustrating to swing too far in the other direction and receive no actionable constructive feedback at all. It’s a hard balance to hit.
This is a fabulous post. I agree with pretty much everything you’ve said.
Thank you, Nancy. That means a lot!
[…] and less careful, as you can see from the amazing comment threads on all three of the Backbone Project […]
[…] This was my response to Amy Sundberg’s You are Not a Weenie if a Critique Makes You Cry. […]
[…] of you will remember my first backbone post in which I gave my own take on how critiques can go wrong. Now, I think that critiques can sometimes be an extremely helpful tool for writers, so I’d like […]
Can I get a witness? Dagnabbit! Each point you made echoed some sentiments about critique burn-out that I’ve been feeling lately! And here I was looking forward to telling you where to stick your silly opinions! Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go tweet and FB this little gem.
Haha! I guess we all get burned out sometimes. 🙂
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